


A War for No Reasons (Not A Very British War)

by RoobarbPierce



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23906065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoobarbPierce/pseuds/RoobarbPierce
Summary: (A rewrite of my very VERY ancient fic from t'other place, because that's what lockdown is for, right?)A female surgeon arrives at the 4077th, finds friendship where she should find love, and love where she absolutely shouldn't.
Relationships: Father Francis Mulcahy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very VERY old fic that I wrote about 15 years ago. And now I'm a bit older, and a bit wiser, and a bit locked down and looking for something productive to do, I decided to revisit it. And two chapters in, I've realised it's about to become a very different beast. So I've retitled it and thought I'd give you what I've got so far to see if it's still got wings. And, well, here it is.
> 
> And it's for Bill Christopher, because he always seemed to want Mulcahy to have a bit of a romance, I think.

Hawkeye leaned nonchalantly against the post at the entrance to “The Swamp”, a martini glass in hand. As he stood looking out over the 4077th M*A*S*H unit as it awoke to face another day in Korea, his best friend stepped through the door and took up a similar position on the other side of the opening. They looked across at one another and raised their drinks in a silent salute.

"Shall we?" asked Hawkeye.

"Why not" replied BJ.

They cleared their throats theatrically, and let rip.

"ENEMY ATTACK! EVACUATE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!"

The door of the Swamp flew open, and a large, middle-aged man bounded through it, coming to rest a few paces forward in the middle of the compound. His hair, framing a smooth bald head, was standing at worrying angles, and he clutched his robe to him like an elderly lady clutching her handbag. His eyes, wide with fear, were darting nervously in all directions. It took a moment for him to register the hysterical laughter coming from behind. Turning, he saw both Hawkeye and BJ clutching one another, struggling for breath between howls and wheezing. This was Major Charles Emmerson Winchester III. And he'd just fallen for the latest episode of 'Chucklebaiting' by the two Captains. He was not amused.

"Sorry, Charles!" gasped BJ, as Hawkeye slid to the ground and began pounding on the dirt. "Our mistake, it must've been a jeep backfiring!"

Charles was about to let the two manic surgeons in front of him know exactly what he thought of their 'mistake', but was stopped by a jeep coming skidding to a halt a few feet away. Furious though he was, any sign of something, ANYTHING, happening in this God forsaken hellhole, was cause for pause. Wiping their tears, Hawkeye and BJ clapped Charles on the back and moved off to investigate. Radar had already hurried out to greet the new arrival and was subjecting her to a barrage of information whilst she struggled, unsuccessfully, with her cases. Hawkeye immediately surveyed the sight in front of him - 30-ish, dark hair tied neatly in a bun, definitely army issue from top to tail. But… BUT! Her uniform indicated that she was not US Army, and its dark green serge looked almost colourful in comparison to the drab khaki which dominated life in camp.

He slapped BJ on the arm as an indication to get behind as he got to business.

"Well, hello Your Majesty! Welcome to our humble palace, Hawkeye Pierce at your service!" Hawkeye bowed low, and as he straightened he smiled wildly at the newcomer. She looked unphased.

"Well, hello. I'm Captain Sally Lester, British Army Medical Corps." She looked around, as if hoping someone with more sense would appear. "Wondering why the hell I'm here now…"

BJ laughed out loud, "Oh that's something we're all trying to work out. I learned the hard way not to believe the brochures. I’m BJ, by the way. Hunnicut. Don’t trust him,” he gestured at the lanky surgeon next to him who was shoo-ing at Radar now and trying to carry more bags than his hands would let him. “He can’t find the latrine without a map”.

BJ pointed towards Colonel Potter’s office, and the two moved off. Hawkeye, seeing this brand new opportunity escaping, started to follow, throwing the bags back into the rear of the jeep and knocking Radar’s glasses askew in the process.

“GEE! SIR! Those are LADIES bags! You need to.. Really…” the rest of his words disappeared, as the group of three moved away and he was left to huff and puff to himself.

"So!" Hawkeye fell into step beside BJ and Sally. "I'm guessing from your accent and uniform that you don't hail from one of the 48 states?"

"My goodness, did you read my chart?" she laughed in response. "You'd be right. I'm from Hampshire. The original Hampshire. In England".

"Well, Sally. In case you missed it, I’m Hawkeye, and he’s BJ. We're the entertainment around here, and when we get bored with that we go shrapnel hunting in the bodies of young men."

Sally winced at this comment. She looked closely at the loose-limbed man who was holding the door open for her. He was taller than her, and stooped slightly. His black-ish hair flopped forward into his eyes, which were the bluest she'd ever seen. His smile threw her completely, it was magnetic. Suddenly aware of the fact she was gazing at him for longer than was polite, she snapped back into the real world and stepped through the doors to greet her new commanding officer.

As she passed in front of them, Hawkeye rubbed his hands together in delight. "Oh yeah, still got it, baby!" he chuckled.

"I wouldn't say that too loud, Hawkeye" said BJ, "If you’ve got it, she won’t want to catch it".

They were about to follow her through the door to eavesdrop, when Radar yelled from where they’d left him.

"Uh, oh! Choppers! And they sound loaded!" He took off in the direction of the helipad, and the two men felt their shoulders involuntarily sag. A disembodied voice shouted to all in the vicinity over the camp speaker.

"ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! GRAB YOUR PARTNERS FOR A MILITARY TWO-STEP! EVERYONE TO YOUR POSITION PLEASE!"

BJ looked over at his friend as the sound of the buses approached the compound. "Not a very nice introduction for our new guest, is it?"

"She's a quick learner!" Hawkeye yelled back, as the sound of the choppers came closer, "And I'm a good teacher!"

They both ran to receive the incoming wounded, a task they’d become far too innured to over the weeks, or months, or years, or however long they’d been there. It was a simple but horrific task. Look at the bodies, check the wounds, look at the dog tags. Listen for the shouts of the nurses. Try not to look at the faces. Focus on the job at hand - work out what was wrong and how to fix it. And for the ones that couldn’t be fixed? Well, that was where others came in. Corpsmen to move them to one side, nurses to comfort, and Mulcahy to deal with the inevitable. Unfortunately, the first one off Hawkeye’s bus fell into the latter category. A quick lift of the field dressing packing the head wound showed there was nothing left to work with. Hawkeye didn’t even bother checking the dogtags.

“Father? Father!”

He was there in a moment. “Yes, Hawkeye?”

“Just, y’know. Talk to him. Or something”.

Nothing more needed to be said. He left the priest crouched awkwardly in the dirt whilst he moved onto the next one.

oOo

Hawkeye was second into scrub. He took one look at Sally and coughed awkwardly.

“Oh hi! Nice to see you again. You know, nurses have a seperate scrub area? I’ll show you after this. It’s just, well… we surgeons get clean in here, but we’re dirtier out there,” he laughed. Sally continued scrubbing.

The door opened and in came Margaret Houlihan. She was bristling in a way that Hawkeye hadn’t seen her do since Frank Burns had left. “Doctor,” she snapped, as she held out a clean tray of towels to Sally.

“Thank you, Major,” Sally intoned. “I’m impressed. Your nursing staff are exemplary”.

“Thank you, Doctor”. Hawkeye detected the merest hint of a smile above Margaret’s mask as Sally expertly pinched a towel between index finger and thumb, shook it out, and dried her arms. Hawkeye felt his feet suddenly magnetised to the floor. Doctor? DOCTOR?

“Hi there. Captain Lester was it? I’m sorry… I’m confused. Normally our surgeons are, well…” he stopped, looking for a witty line that wasn’t coming. He went with the obvious. “Like me.”

“Presumptuous?” she asked, as she tied a mask round her face, leaving him looking at her eyes over the top. As blue as his, and with a dangerous glint. Hawkeye felt his knees knock, and not through attraction. It was like looking in a mirror, but one with a slight crack.

Potter entered at that point, both saving and damning Hawkeye at the same time. 

“AH! Pierce!” he bellowed. “You’ve met our new surgeon. I’ll admit, it’s a surprise. We’ll have to be caref… DAMN! Sorry… AH, Horse Hockey!”

Potter had come in, tried to explain to Hawkeye, tried to remove his trousers, and realised there was a woman present all in the space of 10 seconds. The trousers, then the woman had made him lose his balance, which made him curse, which made him apologise, and then he decided the best course of action was to sit down and explain. Sally beat him to it.

“Captain Pierce. I’m sorry, our introduction was curtailed. I’m Doctor Lester. Yes, I’m a woman. Yes, it’s VERY unusual for me to be here. No, you’re not the first. Yes, I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me. Major…”

The last was directed at Charles as he walked in with BJ. Charles’ eyes grew wide as she walked through the door into the Operating Room, mostly because her “Major” was delivered with the exact same intonation as he usually pronounced the word “Gentlemen”. Potter was on his feet, Hawkeye was now sterile but silent, and BJ felt someone had to say something.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

Charles gulped. “Was that… was that who I think it was?”

Potter nodded. “Captain Sally Lester. She’s been leaving men alive all over Korea for the last year or so. I’d’ve told you earlier but you’d all have panicked”. He finished scrubbing.

“I’m going to tell you this once and once only. We asked for another surgeon, and they sent us Lester. I don’t like it any more than you do, but she’s what we’ve got. And dammit, she’s good”.

Potter thudded through the door into the O.R. and Hawkeye peered in after him. Lester was already elbow deep in a casualty with Margaret Houlihan standing at his head.  
Hawkeye looked back at BJ and Charles. Both half shrugged, half tilted their heads. They’d been through some shit here already. But this? This was new.


	2. Chapter 2

It was not a pleasant experience in O.R. that morning. Not that it ever was, but this had been particularly difficult. Nursing staff had been dealing with burns from incendiary bombs in pre-op - apparently it helped to set fire to things before you properly shelled them so you could be sure where you were aiming. Meanwhile, others had been assisting in surgery whilst they removed the remains of artillery fire from infantry soldiers, some of whom had been brought in still clutching ineffectual rifles to their bodies like shields. 

"Clamp, nurse. NOW!" Sally exclaimed, exasperated.

"No need to be so forceful, Captain,” Margaret Houlihan replied in clipped tones, "Try to remember I am your superior in rank."

Sally's eyes flashed back at her over her mask. "Try to remember I am trying to stop this young man bleeding to death.”

BJ and Hawkeye glanced at each other with a knowing look. 

“Clamp, Doctor.”

The two women looked across at each other as the instrument changed hands.

“Thank you, Major.” Sally responded. 

Potter smiled to himself under his mask. 

oOo

The door of the O.R. opened after about eight hours. Klinger’s unmistakable tones came across the room.

“Sirs, we’ve got a small one here. As in small person. As in tiny. What do I do?”

“Anyone free?” asked Potter. Charles started to count himself out, before Sally stepped in.

“I’m free, I think. Major, you’re OK to close here?”

Margaret nodded “Of course, Doctor. Glad to.”

Sally stepped away from the table she’d been working on, stripping off her apron as she went. Her gloves followed it into the bin, and she held out her hands as a nurse supplied the coverings required and she approached the one empty table in the room. Klinger, tottering on heels, was at the head of a litter with the smallest patient she’d seen in a while. A young boy, no more than 12, was in front of her. His clothes were stripped off, but she could see several puncture wounds in his chest and stomach, no doubt from finding something he shouldn’t have in a field somewhere. Stroking his head softly, she nodded to the nurse at the head of the table, who placed a mask over the young boy’s face. Focussed on the job at hand, she was completely oblivious to the priest who quietly positioned himself at the nurse’s elbow with a worried expression.  
When she opened him up, his condition was much worse than she'd thought. It’d been a while since she’d seen this kind of damage in a child’s body, and the worst thing was their slight forms gave no room to work with.

"Dear God, it's like a colander in here," she muttered.

"You OK there?" BJ asked her. "I can assist if you like, I'm nearly done here."

"I'm fine," she replied, rather too abruptly. "Thank you, though" she added in a more gentle tone.

She began her work on what was left of the kid's bowel.

"Suction please, nurse" she said, as the cavity began to fill with blood. But as fast as it was removed, it began to fill up again. "Where the hell is that coming from?" she thought. Digging deeper, and up, she was suddenly hit in the face by a spurt of very dark, very red blood.

"Oh buggeration!" she exclaimed, "His liver's in pieces." She began to scrabble frantically in the depths of his abdomen, knowing full well that there was very little that could be done to save him.

"BP is dropping, Doctor" said the nurse at the head of the table.

"I know, I know," she snapped, never lifting her eyes from the tangled mess of innards in her hands. "More suction, for God's sake."

"I haven't got a pulse, Doctor" Sally's angry eyes began to sting. She began heart massage to try and pull the child back from the brink. Again and again she pumped his chest, ignoring the crack as his breastbone gave way. At that moment, she wished she could be anywhere but here. She wished she was sitting at home with her family, having never heard of this god-forsaken war being waged by someone else's country. That was where her mind went every single time she’d had to thump out this gruesome rhythm. She kept up her relentless pounding, stopping to check then starting up again when she received a negative answer. Until eventually. Inevitably.

Sally sighed deeply, from the pit of her chest. She looked up at the nurse checking vitals, and she looked across at Margaret Houlihan who’d joined the table. “Anything?”

“Nothing, Doctor. Sorry.”

“Damn. Just…” she turned away, and cursed more strongly, quietly. “What’s left?” she shouted toward Klinger, still stood at the door looking like a statue.

“We’re done, Captain. That’s it.”

“Jesus… ” she mumbled at Margaret across from her. She hadn’t noticed the chaplain, just within earshot. “Captain,” he whispered, not in an accusing manner, but more as a reminder. 

She whipped her head round and looked at him, his pale blue eyes looked across the child’s stilled face to meet hers. She nodded. “Sorry, I… you are?”

“Father Mulcahy”

“Right. Sorry, Father.”

Sally moved around the table and pulled the instrument tray to her. Quietly, she threaded a needle and picked up forceps. “Do you mind if we work at the same time?” she asked him.

Mulcahy looked at Potter, who shrugged. He looked back at Sally. “Not at all, Doctor”.

“Thank you. Major, will you assist?” she asked quietly.

“Of course, Doctor,” Margaret replied. 

Whilst the priest prayed for the child, the doctor and nurse put him back together as best they could.

oOo

Last out of the O.R., Sally sank down onto one of the benches. Charles was finishing up his ‘ablutions’ as he called it, and he turned to her as she stripped off her gown and threw it in a corner.

“You seem to have picked up the tune here remarkably well,” he said.

“Well, once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. This isn’t my first opera, sir”.

He chuckled at that reference, and she smiled in response and shrugged at him. “Well, Sir, I’m guessing from your accent you don’t do rodeos.”

“Charles, please”, he extended a hand, which she gratefully took.

“Thank you, Charles. Sally.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sally. I’ve heard an awful lot about you. Although not your arrival here. That… well that was a surprise to us all”. 

“It usually is. I’m used to it. It takes a lot of effort to be here, and I’m often left wondering why I bother given the reception I get”.

“We weren’t rude I hope?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“Oh no, not at all!” she said. “Initially it’s usually the nurses I have problems dealing with. Major Houlihan was absolutely brilliant. Time will tell whether my fellow doctors will be able to cope with me. There’s a reason I get moved a lot, and it’s not just because I’m British…”

Charles bristled a little, mostly because he knew exactly what she was getting at. It was all very well admiring work from a distance. But he could foresee a time when she stepped in, or assisted, or God forbid he assisted her, where it could all suddenly get rather awkward.

“Well, as I said, Doctor. I have heard great things, and it’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” He bowed gently, and left, leaving her alone with only her own head to deal with. She’d deliberately not mentioned that she’d missed him in Tokyo General by two weeks and knew exactly how difficult he could potentially be if she tried to step on his toes. 

This was her fourth M*A*S*H unit in 4 months. Before that, she’d done 4 months in Seoul before the fighting had driven everyone to God knows where. Two months in Tokyo General before she was climbing the walls with the normality of it all. Then 5 months in an EVAC hospital before she’d finally persuaded her commanding officer to send her back in the direction where her skills were needed. He’d tried to dissuade her, but she had five years on him and medals from WWII which outstripped his. From there, it was a similar pattern. M*A*S*H unit, fight with the nurses because she was a Doctor, fight with the doctors because she was a woman, the C.O put a call in and off she went. She’d been on R&R in Tokyo when she’d met a psychiatrist at a poker game who’d suggested the 4077th might be a good fit, but would say no more than that. That damned Sidney Freedman still owed her $40 if this one didn’t work out.

Sally took a deep breath. She stood, and stepped into post-op to check on her handiwork, and sign off on the next lot of painkillers for the first patients she’d put back together.


	3. Chapter 3

At the end of a row of men, Sally stopped to take stock. It was so far, so good as far as she was concerned. She hadn’t saved everyone, but then she never did. No one ever did. She’d deal with that shortly. Her current reading told her that the nurses weren’t overwhelmingly rejecting her. That was a start. 

A short, dark haired nurse hustled up to her elbow.

“Doctor, Corporal David’s chart needs your signature…”

She looked down, checked the details, confirmed with the nurse who nodded in acknowledgement and smiled as Sally signed. Dear God, was she actually in a unit where the nurses had control of their own work? Nothing she appreciated more than a nurse left to their own experience, even if Sally's own behaviour sometimes made them feel otherwise. 

She whispered to herself under her breath.

“Don’t fuck this up, Doctor. Don’t do stupid”.

Smacking out through the doors into the compound, she paused for a moment to let the fresh air hit her face. A deep breath, and the cool night air filled her lungs. She could hear a noise coming from a tin shack to her left, the rickety sign over the door reading “Officers Club Enlisted Men Welcome”. But not yet, not quite yet. Tramping over the dirt of the compound she listened to the crunch of the ground underneath her feet, and she scuffed them slightly as she went. Nothing like loose Korean soil to shift the caked blood from the treads of your boots.

A less than five minute walk took her beyond the camp and out towards the darkness. She’d done this ritual many times before, not here but elsewhere. Looking over her shoulder to check she hadn’t been followed, she removed her shirt, leaving her shivering slightly in her vest. Looking around the hills, and on the ground round about her, she reasoned she was safe. She sat down soundly on a rock and balled her shirt up. Forcing it up into her face, she took a deep breath, and screamed into it.

It was a technique she’d learned from her mother. No use in losing your temper in front of others who aren’t really in a position to help you. In her mother’s case, she had four children under 12. In her own case, she was in a camp of folks who were going through the same thing she was. Sort of. More pressingly she was trying to not let on that the death and destruction was getting to her. Ten years as a doctor in a man’s world had taught her any sign of emotion would be seen as a failure, rather than a strength.

She was beyond the screaming stage, and was at the pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes crying recovery stage, when a hand on her shoulder made her leap from her spot. She’d caught the wrist and turned round, before she realised that the person she’d involuntarily driven into the kneeling position was the priest she’d met earlier. Immediately releasing her grip, she started to apologise.

“Shit, sorry. Damn, Father. Oh.. Christ. I…” Sally’s words ran out. Deep breath, “I am so sorry, I didn’t hear you coming”. She felt her cheeks flush, this poor man had only heard her swearing so far, and she could tell he was a gentle soul who might not openly take offence, but might still feel it.

“My fault, Captain,” Mulcahy said in a high voice. “I should know not to sneak up on women like that. They rarely react well to it”. He rubbed his wrist and chuckled, then looked at her intently. “Are you alright? I saw you sitting alone. After tonight, well… it can be a bit of a shock here”.

“I’m… fine,” she said. She looked back at him with a half smile. “I’m not.. This isn’t my first MASH unit, and it’s… well, look. Don’t worry about me. At least in that way”. She shook her head with a gentle laugh towards her feet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meet you properly before. I’m Captain Sally Lester”.

“Father Francis Mulcahy”. He reached out to shake her outstretched hand. “It’s good to have you here”.

For the rest of her days, Sally could never explain exactly what it was about that precise moment that made her react the way she did. She tried to work it out, whether it was how gentle his hand was in hers, or the careful way he laid his other hand on her shoulder. Her best guess was it was something in his eyes, and the way they seemed to look right into her soul. She felt, for a fleeting moment, this man seemed to know more about her than anyone else had her entire life. 

Whatever it was, she was still mortified by her response. Somewhere, down in her chest came a sob. Then another. And another. She pulled her hand away and turned towards the darkness of the countryside, taking a few stumbling steps and mumbling something about being OK, and just wanting to be left alone. She expected to feel a hand or something on her shoulders, but he didn’t follow her. He just stood where he was, saying nothing, doing nothing. Just… being there. After a few minutes, when she’d gotten a hold of herself again, she turned back around, he was just standing where he had been, wringing his hands slightly. Seeing she had regained some of her composure, he took a few tentative steps towards her.

“My dear child,” he began, putting his hand on her arm, then falling suddenly silent. 

They both started slightly as his hand hit the bare skin of her arm. His previously keen eyes were now hovering their gaze somewhere around her hairline.

“I don’t think any of us ever get used to it,” he finished eventually.

They stood there for a moment, both scared to move. A shout came back from the camp and Sally became aware of the chill around her shoulders, and her half soggy shirt now sitting in the dirt near the rock she’d first sat down on. She made to move towards it, but Mulcahy had already read her thoughts, and beat her to it. He picked it up swiftly and turned to hand it to her. She smiled gentle thanks at him, and began to shake it out and draw it back onto her body. He stepped forward in an awkwardly chivalrous attempt to help. Between the two, they managed to put it back on her, their embarrassment obvious only to themselves.

“Father, is the Officers’ Club still serving?”

He didn’t even bother checking his watch before smiling at her.

“I have no doubt it will be!”

“Can I buy you a drink, Father?”

He paused for a moment, and she assumed he was trying to work out whether it was a good idea given the circumstances.

“I’d like that very much, Captain,” he replied eventually.

They started walking back into the light of the compound, shoulders not quite touching.

“Please,” she said. “Call me Sally”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this far, many thanks. I've really appreciated the comments so far. Please allow me the indulgence of setting up Sally as a character, and I promise faithfully that the rest of the characters in the 4077th will be speaking more from here on in. Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated, for good or ill. It's just nice to know you're out there reading this. Rx


End file.
